


Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

by Lizardbeth



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Earth 1.0, Episode: s04e10 Revelations, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:15:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/pseuds/Lizardbeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On Earth 1.0, Lee finds that doing the right thing may bring a new unexpected friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between the Lines of Fear and Blame

**Author's Note:**

> IIRC it was meant for the [](http://bsg-slashathon.livejournal.com/profile)[**bsg_slashathon**](http://bsg-slashathon.livejournal.com/) comment-a-thon. Title from The Fray's "How to Save a Life."
> 
> Set in the same general 'verse as "Standing on the Edge" where the Fleet settles Earth 1.0 after 'Revelations'. 
> 
> originally published online November 2008.

* * *

"Frakking Toaster!"

Lee could hear the shouts from down the aisle between the tents, and he saw the people - men and women all bunched in a crowd, shouting and cheering. His stomach lurched - it was just as bad as he'd expected. "Disperse the crowd!" he ordered the marines with him and started to help, shoving people out of the way. A stray rock hit his shoulder, as the crowd was forced apart by the armored soldiers.

He knew what he would see, but it still came as a shock to push his way into the middle of it and see the crumpled figure on the blackened sand, in Fleet tanks and black pants. Still one person fought off the marines, rushed forward and kicked the helpless man. Lee grabbed the assailant by the shoulders and pushed him into to the marines. "Back off! Leave him alone."

"Toaster lover!" Someone called out from the crowd, but the marines pushed them back, and after some more catcalls and grumbling, the people finally went off.

"Oh Lords of Kobol," Lee murmured and knelt down beside the victim, who was curled up in a ball. His hands were bound in front of him by many twists of rope, and he was covering his face and head with them as best he could. But Lee didn't need to see his face or even the tattoed wing on his arm to know it was Anders. It really couldn't be any one else. Tigh and Tyrol had gone back to _Galactica_ , and Tory was on the base ship. But even if they'd been on the surface, it would still be Anders. Perhaps because he'd been a celebrity and something of a folk hero for being in the resistance twice, the revelation had caused people to turn on him with a sort of virulence that even the regular Cylons didn't seem to get.

There was a moment's strange disorientation - Lee remembered Anders next to him, shooting Cylons on the algae planet, but of course, now they all knew Anders was actually a Cylon himself. But when he gave a choked moan, Lee swallowed back his confusion and reminded himself that he'd given amnesty. Not that anyone deserved this sort of mob justice. "Hey, Anders. It's okay - they're gone."

Anders shuddered and twitched away. Then, belatedly, he seemed to recognize the voice and lowered his hands. "Apollo?" he asked hoarsely and coughed.

"Yeah. Looks like you've had a bad time of it." He put a gentle hand on Sam's shoulder. His skin was like ice. "Gods, how long have you been outside? You're freezing. Here, let me undo this -- " He plucked at the rope, unwrapping it from Anders' wrists and forearms - until finally he could throw it to the ground. The rope had left bloody abrasions on the skin. "Can you stand?"

"Sure," Anders said. He straightened and got to his knees with slow, deliberate effort and paused to breathe, panting shallowly while he clenched his jaw in obvious pain. He still needed Lee's hand to pull him to his feet. The side of his face was caked with bloody dirt from a wound in his hair and was probably the reason he stumbled and nearly fell on his face.

Lee caught him - gods, he was heavy - and slung one of Anders' arms across his shoulders. "Come on." Side by side, he could feel how Anders was shivering. "Let's get you back to your tent, where you can get warmed up."

Anders made a token effort trying to pull free. "No. Don't. You shouldn't walk with me."

Lee glanced at him, surprised and a bit touched that Anders was trying to think of Lee's reputation. "Look, the people who would bother me about helping you already hate that I gave you amnesty, or that I broke up their mob just now. But I don't care -- I'm not going to stand there, while they beat you to death."

At first Anders didn't say anything, then let out a grudging, "Thanks," before falling quiet.

Lee helped Anders to his tent. He stopped just inside the open flap, shocked. The floor was bare dirt, with a crushed toiletry kit, a shredded blanket and a shirt cut to ribbons strewn across it. Otherwise the tent was empty, and Lee knew he'd been issued more. It must have all been taken. "Oh for frak's sake," he muttered. "You gotta go up to _Galactica_ , Anders. Someone did this with a knife. It's not safe."

"Better a knife than an airlock." Anders spoke without rancor, but Lee winced with guilt, remembering looking down at him, standing in the airlock, his hands bound while he waited for someone else to decide his fate. Lee realized Anders was still waiting - except now the decision had been taken into the hands of desperate and angry people who wanted to blame someone - _anyone_ \- for the various disasters.

"Well, you can't stay here. These frakkers could come back." Lee turned around and took him one aisle over, to his own tent. Compared to the vandalized emptiness of Anders' tent, his own seemed plush, with a tarp across the floor, blankets on a cot, and a box for his clothes. He pushed Anders down on the cot. "Sit down. You need me to go get Cottle?" he asked, looking down with some concern. Anders slouched over, big frame shrunken down, and he winced when he moved, coughing lightly.

"No, I'm okay. Just bruised."

Lee wasn't sure he entirely believed that, but he didn't think he would get more answer anyway. He pulled the top blanket from where it was folded at the end of the cot, shook it out, and got close to put it around his shoulders. "Here, at least stay warm."

Anders looked up, and somehow, in the dim grey light, his eyes looked startlingly blue. "Thank you." A shadow of some thought passed through his face, and he looked down again. He started to stand up. "I should go."

Lee moved closer, right in front of him, to block his way. "Where else are you going to go? You don't have so many friendly faces around these days, and I won't let you go back to your tent."

"Friendly?" Anders repeated and laughed hollowly. "Gods, if you're my 'friend' I'm really frakked aren't I?"

Hearing the bitter and ragged edge to his voice rocked Lee back and he protested, clenching his jaw, "I am your friend. I know... there's .. things," he added awkwardly, "that make us not friends, and maybe we didn't meet under the best circumstance, but I admire what you've done. And unlike a lot of them - " he waved a hand, meaning the ones who'd been beating up on him, "I watched you fight the Cylons before. I know you weren't faking it. You didn't know, and it's gotta be the worst thing in the universe to find out." He hesitated, hearing his own words and realizing they were true, and he added more softly, "I know none of this was your fault, Sam."

"I wish it was," Sam muttered. He pushed both hands through his hair and then had to grab for the blanket as it slipped off, tugging it tight around his shoulders again. "I wish I was a secret evil Cylon mastermind and I've been planning this the whole time. Then all this would be funny."

Lee's mouth twitched in a bit of a smile, that faded all too soon at how not-funny everything was. "I'm just as glad you're not, but I understand. I'm going to talk to the Admiral about getting you some security." Sam shook his head in refusal, but since he didn't speak, Lee ignored it and grabbed his hand towel and a water canteen. He sat at Sam's side and wet the towel. "Here, let me clean some of these cuts."

Sam let him, holding very tensely still and flinching as Lee dabbed at the injury on the side of his head. The blood made it look much worse than it probably was, but still, something had hit him in the head which was always dangerous. "Do you feel dizzy or sick?"

"Hurry the frak up before I puke on your nice blanket," Sam grit out between his teeth.

Lee chuckled. "I'll take that as a yes." With the caked blood and dirt removed, he could see how the wound was swelling. "You probably should see Doc Cottle."

"I've had concussions before. I'll live."

Lee pulled back to look at him. Now that Lee had wiped off the dirt, he could see that Sam looked pale and sweaty, even though his skin was cool. It was shock, maybe a touch of exposure from having no jacket in the cold, a probable concussion, plus gods knew what sort of bruises, and he was trying to shrug it off. "Are you really that tough or do you not care?" Lee asked softly. "Y'know, I've been there, Sam. When you feel like you just can't do it anymore, and you're all alone--"

Sam turned his head and his face was set with a sudden cold fury. "Shut the frak up," he hissed. "What do you know? When you find out you're a frakking _MACHINE_ , then you can say you've been there. So frak you and your pity, Adama."

He stood up, the blanket falling from his shoulders, and promptly staggered, hand outflung to find something to catch himself. His knee buckled and hit the ground hard. He let out a gasp and then swore breathlessly, "Frak." Even though he was down already, he swayed as though he couldn't find upright. Nevertheless he tried to stand up again, lurching to his feet as if he was just that determined to get out of there.

Lee grabbed his shoulder before he managed to fall on his ass. "Gods, you are a stubborn bastard, aren't you?" he muttered, and shoved him at the cot again. "Sit down. You're not going anywhere tonight."

Sam sat down again. It took him a moment to recover his breath, then deliberately, he eyed the empty half of the cot then Lee, and his mouth curled up in a smirk. "It's a little small for both of us. Unless you're planning to get _really_ close..."

Lee felt his cheeks get hot and he had to glance away. Sam snorted, and his voice was dryly amused, "Kidding, Adama. I think I can hold back. If you can."

Lee glanced back, teasing retort on his tongue about Sam's reputation as tabloid fodder back before the attacks, but the words died, unspoken. Sam was ashen pale, and he had a hand across his chest, holding his breath. Lee let out a short sigh and shook his head. "You know I'm wise to this bullshit, right? You're not the only person around here who gets aggressively provoking when you're hurt. So lie down before you pass out."

"It's your bunk. I'll take the ground." Sam shifted and put a hand down on the cot, as if he was prepping to get up again, but Lee forestalled that with a grip on his shoulder, keeping him down.

"I didn't have anyone try to beat the hell out of me, did I? I can take the floor. Since I think you're too hurt for me to be _that_ close," he joked, but Sam didn't even seem to hear.

He stopped trying to get up, but he stayed tense. After a moment, he admitted, "I don't ... really want to owe you more."

Ah, so that was it. Lee's hand squeezed his shoulder and let go. "You don't owe me anything. Hell, I owe you, don't I? Without you, we'd all be dead."

Sam's expression flickered with doubt and denial, but in the end he held back whatever he wanted to say. "All right. If you're sure?" he said, and when Lee didn't take the implicit invitation to tell him to get out, Sam eased himself back, careful of his ribs and head. He let out a soft breath when he relaxed that got choked in his throat, and he shut his eyes tightly, one hand clutching the blanket in a white-knuckled fist in a dead giveaway of how much pain he was actually in.

Lee realized what else he could do to help. His fingers fumbled in the cold, but he got the box open and rooted for the first aid kit. Luckily, the kit was complete and he loaded the injector with the right cartridge. Flipping back the blanket, he injected the morpha right into Sam's thigh. Sam jerked in surprise, and his eyes shot open. "What the frak?" He froze in tense anxiety, staring at Lee in suspicion. Lee bit his lip, struck by the idea that even after all he'd done to help, Sam still thought Lee might try to murder him.

"It's just morpha. Try to get some rest. You're safe here."

Sam watched him for the longest time in silence, unspoken questions and uncertainty slowly draining out of his face, until he let his eyes drift closed again. He murmured, slurring his words a bit as the drug took hold, "Would've saved a lot of trouble to open the airlock."

"No," Lee shook his head. "There's been enough death. It's time we all learn to live, don't you think?"

Sam didn't answer, though if that was because he was almost asleep or he didn't agree, Lee couldn't tell. Not long after, Sam's breathing grew more regular: it was still shallow and occasionally faltered with a pained hitch but otherwise he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. His fingers loosened their death grip on the blanket. It occurred to Lee that he had a Cylon sleeping in his tent, and it didn't matter at all. A small part of him felt that it _should_ , that he should hold onto the hate for the loss of the Colonies and all the people who had died there, but that hatred seemed hollow when faced with an example of where that hate led.

It mattered more that he had Kara's estranged husband in his tent, but no matter how things went in the future between the three of them, he knew he couldn't regret helping Sam now. It wasn't often that 'right' and 'necessary' were the same thing, but he knew they had been tonight.

Lee fixed the blanket over him, and smoothed it with his hand. He made a bedroll for himself on the floor between the cot and door, set his watch to wake him in two hours so he could make sure Sam could still be roused, and turned off the lamp.

As he lay there in the dark counting Sam's breaths, with a cold draft against his cheek reminding him of the horrible wasteland surrounding them outside, it felt good not to be alone.


End file.
